


Sherlock To The Rescue

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad date, Blind Date, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Mary Ships It, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Sherlock Being a Hero, Sherlock To The Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary sets Molly up on a blind date that she hopes will go well, but when it turns into a disaster and Molly sends her a text saying “Help Me” she knows just who to send to get Molly out of the sticky situation, and it leads to a more…beneficial…situation for both of her friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock To The Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaybeItsJustMyType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItsJustMyType/gifts), [Chitarra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chitarra/gifts).



> So this was one of the fics prompts I got from the amazing **MaybeItsJustMyType** that I had sitting in my folder for ages (" _Mary sets Molly up on a blind date and sends Sherlock to 'help a friend...'_ ") that i had put up for my Fic Title Acronym Free For All adoption, and it was adopted by the lovely **Chitarra** but I ended up changing it. I do hope it is still enjoyed!

“Francisco Castenada.”

Molly looked up from the paperwork in front of her, pushing her reading spectacles up her nose and looking at Mary. Mary had an excited grin on her face as she balanced her daughter Marissa on her hip. “Who is that?” she asked.

“Hopefully your date for Saturday evening,” Mary said with a grin. “He’s a friend of my personal trainer. He seems to be a really nice man. He’s a fan of the theatre and he has front row tickets to ‘Harlequinade’ with Kenneth Brannagh and he was wondering if my friend knew anyone who might want to go who was cute and single and she asked me and I thought of you.”

Molly groaned softly. Ever since her engagement to Tom had ended a year prior most of her friends had been trying to set her up on blind date after blind date. She didn’t mind, for the most part, as most of the dates were rather harmless and she’d get a decent meal and drinks and sometimes a film or a play out of it, but there were a few who had been rather grabby and a few who had been rather aggressive. She’d been trying to taper them off because she was trying her best to just accept that she had no luck with men whatsoever and it was in her best interest to stay single.

But she really did want to see that play.

She sighed and then leaned back in her chair. “All right. I suppose I can agree to a date with him. When and where does he want to meet?”

“Saturday night, five PM at Mint Leaf Restaurant & Bar,” Mary said. “He thought dinner would be best first, then going to see the performance at seven, and maybe drinks afterward.”

Molly nodded. “That sounds like a decent date, I suppose. Give him my number and I’ll make any further arrangements with him.”

“I promise, you won’t regret it,” Mary said with a grin. She gestured towards the door. “Are you free to join me for lunch?”

“Yeah,” Molly said, giving Mary a wide grin. She stood up and took her spectacles off, setting them on her desk. “And you can tell me more about this man who’s supposed to sweep me off my feet.”

“Deal,” Mary said with a nod as Molly began to gather her things. It was going to be quite interesting to learn about this blind date of hers.

**\---**

Saturday rolled around and Molly had taken a shortened work day to get ready for the date. She wasn’t supposed to go in at all, but there had been a rather puzzling and suspicious death and Lestrade and Sherlock had asked for her personally. It had cut into her plans but to be honest she wasn’t as excited for this date as she had hoped she would be.

She’d finished up delivering the results to Lestrade and Sherlock and was stowing the body when she realized Sherlock had not left with Lestrade. She stopped and looked at him. “I thought you’d be gone to go track down the killer by now,” she said, giving him a quizzical look.

“I know you had plans today,” he said. “A…date.”

“Oh, that,” she said, waving her hand slightly. “Yes, I do, but it’s…it’s just dinner and a play and maybe drinks afterward.”

“Most people would consider that to be an impressive date,” he said.

“I suppose I’m just not fond of blind dates, even if I do want to see that play,” she said with a slight shrug. She went back to putting the body away. “Unless he’s the perfect specimen of a man I doubt there will be a second date.”

“And just what do you consider the perfect specimen of a man?” he asked with a small smile.

She looked up at him, not sure what to say. Deep down, she still fancied him. Oh, she knew nothing would ever come of it. He didn’t feel that way about her, and she doubted he ever would. It just wasn’t the way he was. “I’m not sure anymore,” she said finally, giving him a small smile. “But when I figure it out, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

He nodded. “Please do,” he said. He moved away from her. “I hope you find the play and meal enjoyable and the conversation tolerable, at least.”

“Thank you,” she said, her smile widening. She watched him leave and then went back to work. The sooner she got this taken care of the sooner she could get this evening over and done with.

**\---**

She went home and got ready as soon as she could. Her dress was a sleeveless knee length pale pink dress made of tulle fabric that had a bateau neckline and was gathered in at the waist with a large floral and lace appliqué. She had decided to wear her hair down and curled, but pulled away from her face with jeweled clips. The only reason she was bothering to get so dressed up was because she was going to get to go to the West End.

She was going to meet him at the restaurant, at the bar. Thanks to going in for the autopsy she was running a little late and she had texted him letting him know that, and she ended up being a half hour late. She got there and spotted him and was dismayed to see him arguing belligerently with the bartender. She could see three glasses in front of him and cringed. _He’s already three sheets to the wind,_ she thought to herself. She moved back towards the entrance to the bar and texted Mary. _Help me. Blind date is drunk and belligerent._

There was a pause and then Mary texted back. _Bloody hell. John and I just sat down to eat. Has he spotted you?_

 _Not yet,_ Molly texted back. Her date started to get louder and then began looking around, drawing the attention of others. 

_Get out if you can,_ Mary texted back.

“Molly!” she heard a booming voice call out, and she cringed. He had the exact kind of voice that made her want to hide in a hole, the smarmy type of voice of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. He sounded annoyed and slightly angry. This did not bode well. “There you are. Where have you been?” 

_Damnit, he found me,_ she texted back before stowing her mobile back in her clutch. She pasted on a smile. “I’m so sorry,” she said apologetically. “The autopsy ran late.”

Francisco sniffed slightly. “Oh yes. That.” She felt her irritation rise. One of her biggest pet peeves was people dismissing what she did. “Well, you’re here now. I suppose we can move on to our dinner reservations, if it’s not _too_ late.”

She nodded, following him out of the bar. If it wasn’t for his shite attitude he’d actually be quite handsome. He had curly black hair and warm brown eyes with gold specks in them, and his skin was a warm bronze colour. He was wearing a well cut black pinstripe suit with a dark red shirt. He looked very striking, but the attitude left _much_ to be desired. Whoever had talked him up to Mary had lied through their bloody teeth, or at the very least had not mentioned an attitude change when he had a few too many drinks in his system.

They were taken to their table and she studied the menu. There were quite a few things that looked very appetizing but the more she heard Francisco mumble under his breath and make comments the more she found herself quickly losing her appetite. She was looking for any reason at all to leave when there was a small disturbance at the entrance and then she saw Sherlock. He made his way to the table. “I need my pathologist.”

Molly nodded. “Right away,” she said, getting her clutch and picking up her wrap as she stood.

“We’re in the middle of a date,” Francisco said, glaring up at Sherlock.

Sherlock glared back. “Murders don’t solve themselves, and I need the best and brightest at my side, and that includes Miss Hooper. And besides, you’re too pissed and volatile right now to truly appreciate the brilliance that is her company.”

“Are you accusing me of being a drunk?” Francisco said, his jaw dropping slightly.

“No, I’m simply stating a plain fact,” Sherlock said. He turned to Molly and offered her his hand. “I’ll make this up to you.”

“It’s all right,” she said, taking his hand. “I had the feeling it would be a piss poor date anyway.”

“Bitch,” Francisco muttered under his breath.

Sherlock let go of Molly’s hand and then hauled Francisco up out of his chair, holding him up by the front of his shirt. “Take that back,” he said quietly and coldly.

Francisco stared at him with wide eyes. Molly knew she was doing the same thing; she had been called much worse in other circumstances and never had other people stand up for her, so why was Sherlock doing so now? She set a hand on his shoulder. “Sherlock, it’s all right,” she said. “He’s not worth it.”

Sherlock let him go, albeit a bit roughly, and then turned to look at her. “You’re sure?”

Molly nodded. “Yes. Let’s just go. I’d rather work on the case with you than be here with him.” Sherlock cast on last glance at Francisco, who straightened his shirt and suit, and then the two of them made their way out of the restaurant. “Thank you, Sherlock,” she said when they were clear. “I appreciate it.”

“Mary felt horrible,” Sherlock said as he hailed them a cab. “She asked me to go help a friend, and when I pressed for details she said your date was an arse. That was all I needed to know.”

“Well, you’re a good friend,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Sherlock paused in trying to hail them a cab and then looked down at her. “Would you be adverse to a…different…date tonight?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, hoping against hope that he was asking that the two of them have a date.

“You are dressed very nicely tonight, and it would be a shame to waste it,” he said. “So, perhaps, we could get dinner elsewhere and then see a play elsewhere? I know it won’t be as nice as front row seats at ‘Harlequinade,’ but we could try and see something.”

She gave him a wide smile and then slipped her hand into his. “I think that would be an excellent idea, Sherlock,” she said, and she was pleased to see a smile cross his face as well. Perhaps this evening would turn out better than she hoped after all.


End file.
